


District 11

by 91thymeman



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-08
Updated: 2020-01-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:02:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22172248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/91thymeman/pseuds/91thymeman
Summary: This work presents four alternate points of view based on events taking place in the Hunger Games universe.





	District 11

**District 11**

**Basil Springfeather**

“Basil, wake up! It's time to go", I hear a voice calling from the door entrance, and see a curvy shaped figure looking at me, it's my father.

It's early morning, and the sun has barely started to shine upon the landscape, or more precise District 11, Zone H where we are living. Our District takes care of the agriculture of Panem, and my Zone H provides with herbs and flowers, which we hardly see a glimpse of after delivering our exorbitant quota per day. Ever since I was ten years old, I have followed my father to the field, helping him fill our given family quota. All the other families and I need to work on the tracks from early morning until late at night, sometimes even in the dark with head torches to fill the quota.

On our way to the fields, my father and I take company with some fellow workers who are living in the barracks next to ours, often discussing news given to us from the Capital and rumors surrounding the different Zones and Districts which is everyday speech.

“Hey Basil, have you heard? The winners of the last Hunger Game will come to the Hall of Justice this weekend on their Panem tour.” Thymian asks while we are walking along with each other in the morning mist. I look down toward the trail we are walking on and answers.

“I know, Thresh's parents told me when I picked up their rations for the month. They will be attending the ceremony alongside Rue's family.” Thymian, alongside the group, stops talking for the rest of the way. They know that Tresh death in the Hunger Games has affected the Zone H community, and especially me, after my brother’s death, Thresh became a big brother and a role model for me.

While arriving at the field, we got in line and counted to see that everyone is present before we are assigned our specific area, then it's up to yourself to fill the given quota. These plantations are guarded by peacekeepers, keeping track of us, it's highly prohibited to snatch or eat any of the harvested crops. Any suspicions about this, the peacekeepers punish the accused in the Zone square with public whipping or even execution. All this to bring terror to the crowd participation in the action.

Times in District 11 have been more turbulent after the 74th Hunger Games, with the Capitol decreasing the given ration to each family as punishment to try maintaining the situation. It hasn't gone unnoticed on the field, with a growing frustration around the enslavement, and the peacemakers encourage by the Capitol to use increased violence preserve “peace” in the Districts.

It's dawn, and the suns shine bright over the field, this period of the day is the toughest, especially on the smaller children that forced to labor. After the age of ten in District 11, you have forced join living faction on the fields, which is often your family. While picking the herbs next to my father, I can't stop looking across the range. For a moment now, a little boy with his mother has been slacking because of exhaustion. The peacekeeper guarding our section has been warning them and threatening with violence if they don't manage to fill their quota.

The day passes, and the labor groups on the fields are getting smaller, handing in their sacks of herbs and flowers to see if they have reached the requirements. It's common for groups with the elderly and children to work late at night to manage the quota. I don't know what time it's, but the sun is on its way down and doesn't provide enough sight anymore, so people left is forced to use head torches. Thankfully, we manage to fill our quota and are on our way towards the weighing. But there is something that draws my attention. It's the little boy with his mom begging to peacekeeper that is shouting at them.

"I've warned you two before, get your boy up, or I will force him up in my way!", I see the peacekeeper reaching for his nightstick while the mother cries out.

"Please, Cay, stand up!" she leans her body over her son in desperation to protect him.

I throw the sack on the ground and start sprinting towards them, the peacekeeper raises his arm in an attempt to hit them both with the nightstick but misses. I manage to tackle him in time then punch him to the ground, but it doesn’t take long before I get overrun with peacekeepers, and later it all became black. I feel my feet dragging along the ground while being carried by two people. I look up and see two peacekeepers alongside me. My body is in severe pain, and my eyes are starting to swollen up so I can barely see the surroundings. There are many people, but I don't recognize the place before I notice the post in the middle of the square. It's the whipping post in the Zones square. I get forced to sit on my knees while the two peacekeepers tie me to the post, with my bare back exposed. It's dark, it has to be late at night, but there are many people gathered in the square. The peacekeepers standing in front of the crowd with torches and nightsticks, ready to engage. I hear footsteps behind me, coming closer and closer before it stops. Then a loud and rusty voice starts to speak.

“For violent behavior against peacekeepers and work disobedience, I now sentence you in the laws of Panem and orders from the Capital to hundred lashes and one month of withdrawal ration to your living faction!". I hear screaming and shouting from the gathered crowd, with the peacekeepers start to push them back while threating them with violence from their nightsticks. Then suddenly, I get distracted with force against my back, and instant pain occurred and wipes out my breath. Another lash hits my back, and it feels as my spine is exposed. The swelling around my eyes has made that I only can see fog of contours and lights in front of me, but the sound of the crowd is closer than before, and the peacekeepers speaking to each other around me seems nervous.

"Fallback from this Zone into the main square of the District. Katniss and Peeta arrive tomorrow, and we will need all of the reinforcement we could get. Orders from President Snow." I hear the other surrounding peacekeepers agreeing on the giving orders.

"Apprehend! Call air support, and let's evacuate."

The lashing stopped, and it all becomes black.

“How much longer? We have to arrive there at the time of the tour presentation!” I hear voices arguing around me while getting my consciousness back. Suddenly it bounces a bit, and severe pain spread through my body.

"Easy, Easy! Basil, can you hear me?" It's a familiar voice. I struggle to open my eyes to see the individual but manage to answer.

“Yes, who's this? Where am I?" The questions are many, I can gently open my eyes to see it's morning, and we are traveling by a high speeded vehicle, seems to be a hovercraft. I've never been on one of these before, it's governmental, something isn't right. I glance around me and see Thymian sitting by my side. With a cautious look, I ask him again.

“Thymian, what is happening? Where are we going?” A wide grin cracks upon Thymian's face, who then answers.

“They have fled, Basil! The Capital rats have left the Zone, we think they are going to the Hall of Justice to try preventing the same outcome. It's time to fight back.” I see the people around me in the hovercraft preparing themselves, hiding knives, and nightstick on their body, some have even managed to find firearms. Thymian lays his hand on my shoulder and continues.

“You have spread hope, not only to Zone but to District 11. More Zones are planning to follow our footsteps.” I don’t know what to say. I want to scream out the hope that has been born, but I can't. It's unimaginable, me and Treach used to speak about one day would we stand up against the injustice from the Capital, but I wouldn’t ever dare to dream that it would ever happen.

“We are here! Park over there, we can walk the rest of the way.” Says somebody in the control room. Thymian looks at me and asks.

"I understand if you want to stay. I couldn't ask more from you." I stretch my arms towards Thymian and another person I don't recall his name, in a gesture of helping me up.

“Let’s go, so we make it until the presentation.”

While stumbling in the streets towards the Hall of Justice, you could feel notice the anxiety among the people, and the voices of Katniss and Peeta, they have begun. We try to work us through the crowds, but I'm too weak to push me between people. I end up next to an elderly man who listens intensely on Katniss's speech about Rue, whose death in the last Hunger Games affected everyone emotional in District 11. After the sermon, the elderly man next to me starts to whistle the tune Rue did in The Games and raises his arm and performs the three-finger salute, the same Katniss showed after she buried Rue. The people in the crowd start to get aroused, and I notice two peacekeepers coming our way, I try to persuade the elderly man to flee.

"You have run now, or they will kill you." He just continues to stare straight ahead, performing the three-finger salute, until the guards drag him up towards the stage. Katniss and Peeta get escorted away at the same time, as the elderly man reaches there, he falls on his knees, and a peacekeeper reaches after his gun and points it towards the head and fires.

**Peacekeeper Overlock**

The quiet roar of the day is still settling in the barely lit barracks. My hands ache, feverishly red and bruised. I’m still wearing my uniform. My name tag reads Private Overlock. Usually white, with a slightly tight fit to the body, and reinforced with a shiny synthetic material covering my chest, shoulders and most part of my legs, but now painted in greys, browns and reds. It has been a rough day and I am sure I am not the only one feeling this way.

The killings have increased in the last couple of weeks, and it doesn’t seem to stop anytime soon. The outcome of the last Hunger Games has something to do with it. At least that’s what we are told. I know that this is not what I signed up for, but I must have signed up for something. Arresting criminals who are threatening the system is a call of duty. There is an obvious purpose to it, but to execute children seems to be unnecessary. I thought I knew how I would react, but now I know I didn’t.

The heavy wooden door to the barracks suddenly flings open. There are only a few of us already inside. Jackis, he also from district 2 just as me, sits on his bunk bed located a few meters away on the other side of the room. We have quite the resemblance me and him. Strong, short-cut blonde hair, wide shoulders and obviously well-fed. His whole family works in one of the many quarries in district 2. So, does mine. I know, because I once asked.

“There is nothing sweeter than the taste of a Peeblefruit,” one of the more loudmouthed peacekeepers calls out as he enters the barracks.

“Of course, that’s why I brought a few extra!” another peacekeeper answers.

It is apparent that none of them is bothered by today’s events. A few more follow them in through the door and they end up sitting around the table at the other side of the barracks. I hear them talking, bragging, howling like wolves. There is a difference between me and them, a chasm as deep and wide as the old quarry back home. Some are people, some are not.

I don’t know why, but somewhere in the back of my mind, I have a memory of the man who was shot today. It was during a routine search of one of the many settlements located along the big walls that separate the many zones within district 11. Made up of several hovels and shacks, usually whiten by the angry hot sun, these settlements could house up to several hundred people. The group of Peacekeepers, which I am assigned to, were tasked to search a rugged housing complex a few miles southwest of our basecamp. Our orders were assigned to us by Sergeant Coric Pyrmont. As pure as loyalists come, Sergeant Pyrmont isn’t known for his human sensibility, but rather as a man more than keen to follow orders no matter the outcome. As we approached the main entrance, fully geared and with the sweat flowing underneath our heavy helmets, a skinny figure standing in front of the door. He looked old, but there was something heroic about his stance which did not match his small statue. It felt like he would stand in that exact spot until the end of times if he was the one to decide. But it wasn’t. I knew that he was going to get hurt if he decided not to move.

“Move away from the door or face the consequences,” the commander calls out in a loud voice. He sounds convincing. I feel my hands tighten around the heavy baton. The old man, stone-faced and unerring, doesn’t move. It is obvious that he is not alone, neither in spirit nor in manpower, as we forcefully push our way into the building to commence our search. As I walk past the man now lying on the dirty ground, and with the rest of the crowd closing in, I realize that things have changed around here. Our control over the situation is no longer a guaranteed thing. The populace is restless and tired.

I start to untie my pale grey leather boots, but my shaking hands makes the untying more difficult than it should be. Even before the recent Games, just a few weeks ago, rumors spread among the ranks of Peacekeepers. There is this other peacekeeper, Galloway, who is known for never being able to keep his mouth shut. It is unusual for a Peacekeeper of higher rank to act this way, mostly due to the fear of his or her own execution. However, the rumors instilled a fear in me. Apparently, violent incidents conducted by the local populace had increased in some of the other districts, and I couldn’t help but think of my own situation. If I could overhear this type of information surely the workers, which I am tasked to oversee, could have heard these rumors as well. Rumors are rumors after all.

“Group six are to report immediately to HQ,”. The voice on the intercom is cold and harsh. The aftershock of today’s events has not yet settled, I figure. I guess that from now on they never will.

We spent this morning herding people into the vast square located next to the Hall of Justice. Most of the workers came from zones adjacent to Zone B, but we were informed that even works from zones as far away as Zone H would be attending the Victory Tour ceremony. Several hundred scrawny figures, all dressed in worn fatigues, were gathered in the square. As the cloudy morning turned into a cloudy afternoon, I found myself stationed at the far corner of the square with the rest of my unit. We were instructed to spread out, and I was assigned to a small platform overlooking the square. The big TV-screens located on platforms in the middle of the square showed nothing but blackness. The screens were arranged so that they could project their images to the whole square. And then, finally, the voice of a man could be heard over the PA. The blue and yellow flags calmly fluttered in the light wind. I could barely see the man though my visor, not because of the weather, but because of the distance. His voice was clear as day as he introduced the victors.

“Ready now, the victors will soon enter the podium. Keep calm, we don’t want any trouble,”. The voice in my earphone took me by surprise. I caught myself zoning out. Was I feeling anxious? Probably.

The male victor is the first one to speak. The square lay quiet. Only his cool voice can be heard over the PA. The screens now show the images of the dead tributes from district 11, a teenage boy named Thresh and a young girl named Rue. In front of one of the TV-screens, on a small podium, the family of one of the dead participants are placed, silently listening to the speech. Suddenly, I can feel a shift of mood flowing through the air. The people in front of me were whispering, but it felt as if they were screaming in sorrow. Then the female victor, in a heartless voice, started talking. But it wasn’t heartless. It was emotional and human. Dangerous things to be in a place such as this. I know this, even if it is me who’s holding the gun. The gun. Its weight doesn’t seem to make me feel more secure. And then I hear it. A soft melody, only four notes long, shoots through the mass of bodies assembled in the square. I hear the cacophony of orders now being announced over the in-ear intercom in my helmet.

“Seize the culprit! eliminate him! And get him out of here!,”. I hear the gunshot echoing between the large stone houses which encircle the square. As the people standing in front of me start to panic in fear, I see a group of peacekeepers running my way.

“Alert! Secure the perimeter,”. Sergeant Pyrmonts’ voice is strong and determined. To my right, I can see some of the peacekeepers already occupied with curbing the increasingly distressed mob. Just a few meters away, I see a peacekeeper lying on the ground lifeless like a log. I’m frozen in place. I can’t believe the violence which now surrounds me. It is on another level. This time it means something. This time it is different. Another group of peacekeepers closes in on the group of boys who have been standing in the square just in front of me. With their batons raised, they assail their prey. I can’t believe it; a minute ago, I thought that it would be a violent-free gathering. Now, the chaos has spread all through the square, swallowing the calm of the morning.

I don’t see him at first, but I hear the scream. I see a young boy running towards me with something vicious in his eyes. In his right hand, he is holding something which looks somewhat like a knife. He looks shorter than average, but his limber figure is quickly moving towards me. I’m swept up in the whirlwind of people, now engulfing me and lifting me from the ground. The boy disappears from my view for just a moment. Maybe he wasn’t running towards me. Maybe he was running away from all this. The air is filled with dust and I can’t see the boy as he crashes into me. As I fall to the ground, I pull the trigger. The flash from the muzzle blinds me for a second. I realize that I have to get up, that it is dangerous to lie down in a rampaging flock of people. But the boy doesn’t move. A minute ago he was filled with anger and fear, but now he is only a lifeless body. I catch my breath, and then quickly, I roll the dead boy off of me and try to stand up. But I can’t. My legs won’t carry me. My eyelids feel heavy. And so I fade to black.

The noise from the other end of the barracks doesn’t seem to settle. I’m in desperate need of a hot shower, so I decide to undress. Fainting takes a toll on you. Killing you boys do to. I leave the dirty uniform on the hard concrete floor. I find myself all alone in the shower room. The warm water seems to drown out the sounds of the others. I barely notice the tears as they mix with the water. They taught me to never show weakness. But everyone does sometimes. I barely hear the explosion in the distance, and if I did, I don’t know if I could care.

**Coric Pyrmont**

An authoritarian character walks into the peacekeeper’s quarters. The only ones there were peacekeepers Jackis and Overlock. Jackis was recently transferred from District 2 and was about to enter his first ever district 11 shift. He felt a bit uncomfortable when the new shape entered the barracks, so he asked Overlock, “Who is that?”, glancing at the figure. “Oh, it’s Sgt. Pyrmont, one of the highly regarded officer, and a peacekeeper's tribute from district 11 who was given the unbearable task of executing his two sisters and parents for planning a revolt against the Capitol; this, he did to pledge his allegiance to the Capitol and President Snow. Please, just don’t get on his nerves, he is probably the most cold-hearted of us all, he punishes cultivators and crop-workers with 100 whip slashes if the quota of the day isn’t reached to its absolute minimum, and he will certainly punish you for not doing your duty.”, Overlock seriously told Jackis.

Today I, Coric, and the other peacekeepers have been informed to have an extra eye on the citizens of District 11 as the previous victors, Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark, were to arrive this afternoon. While I was getting dressed in the Peacekeeper’s quarters, a video message from President Snow was displayed: “Dear Peacekeepers, you are all the sole reason why the state of Panem continues to thrive in its fashion, and why all 12 Districts keep on working and giving their all for the Capitol. It does not have to change, and it will not change. If somebody in the crowd shows as much as a flinch of hope for the ‘lovely’ couple on stage – terminate them. They are the embodiment of hope and can turn the Districts against us with a snap of a finger. It is, therefore, vital that each and every one of you do your duty to the state and follow my biddings. Panem today, Panem tomorrow, Panem forever.”

I left the quarters with one mission in my head: to reassure no one betrayed the comfort and stability provided by the Capitol. Before the Victors’ arrival, I was being stationed at Zone C to overlook the cotton production, and to guarantee that everyone had produced their quota – if not, then I would gladly show the cultivators my views and opinions of them with my baton, gun or my bare hands. But so was not the case today. Today was quite a normal day, where everyone under my watch did their duty and no more of that. Although I heard of some minor problems with the workers at the herbs and flower crops in Zone H; that a large group tried to attain the herbs, flowers, and other various crops for themselves, but ended up in a mild paralysis by Tracker-Jackers being released against them, as a result. Otherwise, quite the uneventful day, however, all the peacekeepers, all the children, all the parents, all the cultivators and crop-workers were going to the big square in Zone B where the Hall of Justice is located to meet and greet the captivating victors of the 74th annual Hunger Games.

“Attention, attention! All workers from Zone A to M should now attend the Victors’ arrival”, a game-maker’s-esque voice said in the sound system located all over the district. I sincerely hoped this would spark some joy into my work, I had a feeling something would go out of hand. “I didn’t get to whip, beat or shoot anyone today, but I think there’s still time”, he hoped.

All were to attend at the gathering but before the event, however, some of the officers, including me, were summoned inside the Hall of Justice. There, all of us were met with, now, a live message from President Snow telling them to execute the ones who fall for hope onstage for every citizen to witness, so they see and experience the power and threat the Capitol has against those who intervene and stand in their way.

As the big square began to fill up, I, Sgt. Pyrmont was placed with four other peacekeepers in front of the big stage connected to the Hall of Justice where the horrible Katniss Everdeen and dull Peeta Mellark were going to deliver their victors’ speech in a horrid, and old-fashioned way with them talking gibberish about being brave and how the experience has changed them as people while ending with the shabby slogan of Panem.

The time came, the two victors entered the stage, but no one made a sound: the amazing sound, the silence of distraught families living under forced conditions and not being able to do anything about it. Everyone just stood there, while the families of each tribute from District 11, Thresh and Rue, stood raised up on some kind of a pedestal or stage, but that didn’t affect me at all. Peter started off by promising one month of their winnings to the fallen tributes’ families, which sort of baffled everyone and started tickling that small sense of faith within, and the only thing needed to activate the hope, was a switch. That switch was Ms Everdeen when she went to the microphone and started talking to the two families making abhorrent analogies about both of their tributes, until an old black man, standing in the middle of the crowd and facing me directly ahead, raised his hands with three fingers whilst whistling the Mockingjay tune. This lead to everyone following through and doing the same.

“By order of President Snow, any signs of hope were to be eliminated”, I thought. “Seize the culprit! eliminate him! And get him out of here!”, From that point, all of us peacekeepers, lashed out our batons, separated the crowd from the old man and started dragging him to the stage. One annoying character, however, Ms.Katniss Everdeen, tried to intervene by screaming to leave him alone, but she was quickly apprehended and removed into the Hall of Justice in grave disparity amongst with the crowd. Just when the door was about to close, two peacekeepers placed the man on his knees, where I was stood. I proceeded to pull out my service weapon, aim it at the old man’s head and pulled the trigger: all this without any signs hesitance. Still, the problem persisted, hope was now a grave problem. The public execution did not exactly calm down the crowd, but enraged them, leading to people leaping towards us peacekeepers and trying to reach for our weapons or going as far as trying to kill us. Hope was now a leading force for the people, until I took the first shot, the second, the third with the others joining in: we started jointly executing everyone standing in our way.

**Lily Cottonheart**

I was six years old when I first saw her. My mother had taken me with her to the field where we in district 11 were destined to spend our lives, harvesting the crops from sunrise to sunset. The crops were for the capitol and we could not eat any of it. Oh, the irony.

I remember seeing a shadow jumping from tree to tree, something that could have been mistaken for the wind sweeping through the branches. But it wasn’t the wind. It was Rue. Her high up in the trees and me firmly rooted to the ground, as it was ever since that day.

After our first encounter, we became inseparable. Even though we looked nothing alike people often mistook us for sisters. Her being short and dark-skinned with black curly hair framing her round childish face and me with my long blond hair and lanky body.

Even our childhoods had nothing in common. While my father had been killed by peacekeepers and my older sister taken away from us by the Capitol at the reaping her family had been surprisingly spared from tragedy. If you don’t consider starvation and poverty which all residents in district 11 suffer from. I sometimes envied Rue’s winning ticket, sometimes hoped that she would feel the same feelings I had felt during my childhood. At least this was the case up until our first reaping.

I still remember the reaping as if it were yesterday. The heavy rain pattering against the ground and the prodigious trees, so typical for our district, reaching towards the sky. They were remarkably green. The same trees which Rue used to climb in.

When hearing Rue’s name being told I couldn’t take it in. They say that hope is the last thing that dies in man. I hoped that it was just a mistake. It had to be someone else. Someone with the same name as Rue. A lost twin. My thoughts got interrupted at the moment I saw Rue being escorted by the peacekeepers. She looked so tiny, so childish. I regretted envying Rue’s life.

Effie Trinket asked for volunteers. I just stood there looking at my feet, my wet hair sticking against my back making my yellow dress a shade darker. Nobody said anything. The only sound that could be heard was the wind sweeping through the branches and I remember hoping that it was Rue climbing from tree to tree, free as a bird.

The time during the 74th Hunger Games passed slowly. I was in my own bubble, not able to talk to anyone. The people working with me in the field tiptoed around me, afraid of saying the wrong words. But they couldn’t have said anything that would make the situation worse. I didn’t want to say or even think it out loud, but I didn’t believe in Rue winning the Games. The other tributes were twice or triple her size. Sure, Rue was fast and flexible, but that wouldn’t help her to win. 

Eventually, the day came that I had feared ever since Rue’s name was drawn at the reaping. But even though I had feared it and worried about it for so long I couldn’t prepare for the pain it would cause me.

The death of Rue was sudden. A knife pierced her chest and she fell to the ground, the shock was obvious in both her and Katniss’s face. I wanted to look away. Didn’t want to see the last strained breaths from my best friend. But I couldn’t. I was with her until she passed away.

It has now been some time since the Games. Ever since Rue and Thresh passed away in the Games things have changed in district 11. You can feel in the air that something is up. People have become defiant and have started to question the life in Panem. Why should they continue working for the Capitol if the reward is that their children become victims in their games?

“Lily, have you heard that Katniss and Peeta are coming to district 11 tomorrow?”

My friend Ash stands right before me in the field. He has stopped working even though he knows the peacekeepers can easily shoot him if he doesn’t work hard enough. The one peacekeeper of all in zone C we fear the most is Coric. He’s known for his way of executing the workers he simply doesn’t like.

“They are?”

“Yes, they are out on a victory tour.” Ash lowers his voice. “I heard that some of the people working in the flower-part of the district are planning to start an uprising.”

I started to think of Thresh and his family, all working and living in zone H: the zone were herbs and flowers are grown. I wasn’t surprised that the people in that zone would lead to the rebellion. Many of the tributes in the games had come from that zone.

The next day all of the people from district 11 is standing in the square next to the Hall of justice, looking at the victors from the neighbouring district: Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark. I stand together with Rue’s family, supporting them through this tough moment.

Peeta is the first one to talk while pictures of Rue and Thresh fill the screen. The square is completely quiet, nothing can be said to make this situation easier. And if you speak the peacekeepers could kill you in a second.

When Peeta’s voice ceases and the victors are about to leave the stage Katniss begins to talk. I have liked Katniss ever since she did that ceremony for Rue when she passed away in the Games. It had been a dignifying tribute to Rue and I remember Katniss looking into the camera and raising three fingers while whistling the Mockingjay tune. A gesture of empathy for us in district 11.

Katniss’s speech creates an anxious atmosphere among the people in the crowd. She talks about Rue with tears in her eyes. How Rue became a friend and how she couldn’t save her from dying. How are we supposed to respond to this? An old man suddenly does the forbidden. He holds up three fingers while whistling the Mockingjay tune. The second he does this I know it will lead to trouble. I feel pity for the old man while at the same time feeling a string of hope running through me. This could be the start of the uprising Ash told me about. This could be the beginning of a new era, an era where the Capitol is no longer controlling the lives of the people in Panem. Justice and goodness are going to win.

My thoughts get interrupted by the peacekeeper Coric’s voice penetrating the silence of the square.

“Seize the culprit! eliminate him! And get him out of here!”

And before I can even blink a shot is fired, killing the old man who for a second gave me the hope of an uprising. I feel like a hole is starting to grow in me. A hole of emptiness slowly eating me up from inside. My hope of a new era for Panem is completely gone.


End file.
